It's been a while since I've posted, but I'm happy to
be back. This story came to life as a result of a twisted
little thought I had late one night . What can I say?
I had to follow it.
Story parts will be placed on my website at:
http://www.loftworks.com/wftk/choices
as they are posted in case you don't receive a part.
This story may also be archived at www.fkfanfic.com, but no
place else.
Special thanks to my tireless editor, my sister Jeanne, for
grammar and pointing out plot holes you could drive a semi
through, and to Kayleen for finding the rest.
Choices...
Part 1
by Dorothy Elggren
June 1999
Natalie stared out the window with an unblinking gaze. She stared
at the wall on the opposite side of the courtyard and watched the
shadows slowly shift and slip along the wall as the dawn's brilliant
light dwindled into the softer light of day.
She turned her gaze away and became engrossed in inspecting every
minute detail of the windowsill. There was a small crack on the right
side that ran haphazardly into the corner of the window. In the center,
the concrete was pockmarked, and Natalie idly wondered how long it had
taken someone to engrave the pattern of their rage--or more likely
boredom--in the solid cement. Probably a long time. A very long time.
Natalie sighed and turned away and paced the room. Five steps,
then eight, then five, then eight more brought her back to the starting
place. She stared up at the bleak yellow walls, and just for a moment
they seemed to shift closer together, hunkering down on her, confining
her, smothering her...
Natalie laughed a harsh bark of sound that escaped her lips. A
small sob struggled to follow the cynical laugh, or what passed for a
laugh, but she suppressed it. Five steps, then eight, then five, then
eight. She measured out the confines of her world. Five by eight
steps. She really hated this particular color of yellow.
She sat down abruptly on the edge of her bed--if it deserved that
grand of a name. Cot was closer. Uncomfortable cot, actually. But it
was all she had, and all she was going to have for another eight to ten
years.
What a dreary life she was reduced to. And yet, if she had the
opportunity to live the last five years over again, she didn't see
anything that she could have or would have done differently. It was
just really, really bad luck that had reduced her to this state. Or
maybe karma.
A bell rang, loud and shrill, and lights flickered on. Everywhere
Natalie could hear the rustling of bodies. Moans and muttered
imprecations accompanied the sound. It was a daily ritual, too. The
time was six o'clock. Time to rise and face another day in an endless
succession of days. Natalie stared down at her toes, wriggled them
impatiently and got up. It was time to face another boring day. She
got dressed.
"Lambert," Wilson said. The tone of her voice was neither kind nor
unkind. Natalie looked up from her breakfast of burnt toast and
overdone scrambled eggs.
"Yes," she said quietly.
"You're wanted in the infirmary."
Natalie nodded, picked up her tray and followed Wilson. They
stopped momentarily while Natalie bussed her tray. She stuffed her
toast in her mouth hastily as she followed Wilson down the hall.
"It's gonna be a nice day," Wilson said, "warm, too." Natalie was
always surprised at how well Wilson--in fact all of them--treated her.
She was lucky, she supposed.
Natalie nodded, "Sunrise was pretty."
Wilson looked at her sideways. "Couldn't sleep?"
Natalie shook her head. "I'm a night person, really. I just
haven't got the hang of this. I used to head for bed about this time."
"Weird," Wilson said. "How'd you ever get used to working all
night?"
"I just did," Natalie said. And she had. It hadn't been hard with
Nick around. She'd loved the night, because of Nick.
"Spivey tried to kill herself again," Wilson said. "That's why we
need you so early. But it ain't bad."
"What'd she do this time?" Natalie asked as Wilson unlocked the
barred doors and let her through.
"Usual," Wilson grunted, "tried to slice her wrists, but she wasn't
really trying."
They entered the infirmary, and Wilson waited while she signed in,
then with a nod disappeared.
"Doctor Lambert," Nurse Hawkins said with relief, "I'm glad you're
here."
Natalie could see why, too. Spivey was lying in the bed, tied
down, shrieking and wailing like a banshee.
"Hey, Sam," Natalie said, taking Spivey's hand in hers and stroking
it. "How you doing?"
Samantha Spivey focused on Natalie. "I wanna die," she wailed, "I
want outta here!"
"Shhh," Natalie said soothingly, examining the cut in Spivey's
wrist. It wasn't deep and had missed the artery completely. "Do you
mind if I clean this up?"
Spivey hiccuped and subsided on a sigh. "I guess not." Natalie's
calm voice and gentle touch seemed to penetrate to her core. She felt
herself relaxing. The anger and paranoia of the night faded away.
With the dissolving of her rage, sanity began to return. She looked
down at her arms and the blood covering her. "Oh...shit...," she
whispered.
Natalie began cleaning and sterilizing the wound. "Sam," she asked,
"what's really the problem? I know you don't want to kill yourself."
Spivey sighed and turned her head away.
"Sam?" Natalie asked again.
Finally Spivey spoke. A mere whisper of sound. "Tommy says he
ain't coming to see me anymore."
"He's not, huh?" Natalie said in a non-judgemental tone as she
sewed up and bandaged Spivey's arms. "Why is that, Sam?"
"He's got a new girlfriend. Some bimbo. And here I am, can't do
nuthin' about it while I'm stuck in this hell-hole."
Natalie grimaced. Hell-hole. Yeah, that about covered it. It
sure wasn't anything she had ever expected to be doing. In fact,
serving time had never been on her list. Yet, here she was, just like
Sam.
"Maybe he'll come around," Natalie said, soothingly, covering her
own pain.
"That shit, not likely," Sam grunted. "He's the one that got me
here. Hey, Sam, we're gonna be out on the street. Just go in to this
one place and hold it up. No one'll ever catch us...yeah, right. Now
he's got some new bimbo, and I bet he uses her just the same."
Natalie stopped in the middle of taping Sam's wrist up and looked
at Sam in puzzlement, "Then why do you care if he ever comes around here
again--if he did that to you?"
Sam laughed. "Because, I want to get out and beat him into the
ground. I want him to suffer like I am. He'll be long gone. I'll
never find him, I'll never get to beat him into a little stain on the
ground."
Natalie smiled though Sam's words seemed to bounce and scream in
her head. "Hire a detective. Someone as dumb as him will probably leave
a trail a mile wide."
Sam laughed. "I hadn't thought of that, but you're right."
They both laughed while Natalie finished, and then Spivey was
escorted back to her cell. Natalie was left sitting on a stool staring
into space. Sam's words had bitten deeply.
*"He'll be long gone. I'll never find him..."*
And he was. Gone. Natalie would never find him. And he would
never know. A tear trickled down her face, and after a moment, she
wiped it away. She was done with crying. She was done. It was over.
He was gone. It was just a cosmic twist of fate that she'd been
charged, tried and convicted of the murder of Nick Knight. Even though
there wasn't a body. Damn him. Damn them all...
Natalie remembered it all as if it had just happened--as if it
never became the past. It was always present. Every event, every word,
every intonation and gesture. Everything. It had been a rough year for
them. Both she and Nick had struggled. They'd had ups and downs
before, but they'd become higher and lower, like a rough sea...
Things had nearly fallen apart after she'd seen that episode of
'The Jerry Show'. The one where a foolish young woman had talked about
making love to a vampire--with a vampire. Maggie had been her name,
Natalie recalled. She had described romance on a plane of existence
that, well, just didn't exist with a real vampire. At least not
Natalie's vampire, or any vampire if you had any plans on remaining
alive--or human. Everything inside her had crumbled into dust,
disappeared in the pain and anguish of it all. All the hurts she had
hid inside had bubbled up and over.
It all was about Nick. His inability to keep to a diet, to do
anything she asked. And if she was truthful, Natalie knew, it was just
as much about her life and how empty it would be without him--and
sometimes was with him--because he couldn't give her anything that she
really wanted.
But Nick had given her enough. He understood so much and yet was
incapable of saying any of it, but still...he'd managed to show her.
Nick had held her close and told her she would never know how much she
meant to him. Then he had kissed her. One of the few kisses he'd ever
dared. And that night he'd dared a great deal.
That was the problem, Natalie supposed as she sat on her stool in
the prison infirmary and mulled over the events for the millionth time.
She'd had a taste, and she'd wanted more. She'd pushed. Too far.
Nick seemed to back away the more she strove for closeness.
Frustration danced with them in every conversation, every action. And
Natalie had not understood. How could she? Not then. Not now--not
really. Oh, sure, all the time on her hands had allowed her to reflect
upon events and she could guess, but she would never understand. She
wasn't a vampire--and she wasn't Nick with his twisted up soul and
guilty conscience. She would never understand the lust and hunger that
drove him, rode him every hour of every day. But she had come to
comprehend his desperation.
A door clanged behind her, and Natalie twisted on her stool, but it
was only Barker dropping off supplies. Nobody needed anything, and so
Natalie was free to remember. Free to flay herself with the memories of
what had happened. Surely no prison sentence was more exquisite than a
mind stuck replaying the most painful memories of your life over and
over again....
Natalie had been on her way back from the Thacker murder. It had
been a grisly crime scene. Blood splattered everywhere, making her
stomach turn at the senselessness of it. Her life was one long never-
ending (blood-splattered) crime scene and she was always going to or
coming from one or so it seemed. But it had been chance that had taken
her by the Raven that particular night. It had been the most direct
route back to the Coroner's office. It had also been Nick's night off.
Once Natalie realized where she was, she'd looked less than idly for his
car. Was he there? Or was he home? She never knew anymore. Thing
were that rocky between them. A series of stilted moves in a bad play.
Act after act of endless words, inane conversation. Fencing, feinting,
falling back, advancing, but never connecting or winning or losing.
She saw his car. She'd felt the zing of recognition slither
through her and muttered under her breath, "No. I won't stop. It's
none of my business."
Unfortunately she hadn't needed to stop. As if on cue, the next
act began. Nick had stepped out of an alley into brighter, harsher
light of the street. A little blonde thing was with him, her hands all
over him. Nick had smiled and swung around, missing Natalie's drive by
with open, gaping mouth. Her foot left the gas pedal and the car
slowed. Time halted.
The blonde with big eyes and very little clothing covering her
reached up and kissed Nick. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, Natalie
felt her heart thud to the ground as he kissed her back. Casually.
Familiarly. Intimately.
As he bent his head, almost healed marks on his neck were suddenly
spotlighted by the obliging fates.
Her heart bounced dully on the pavement and she drove over it,
grinding it to paste. And then Nick stepped back from the little
vampire he'd been oh so obviously dining on, and time slipped back into
gear. With tears in her eyes, Natalie stared ahead and slammed her foot
on the gas and took off. She couldn't help one last glance in the side
mirror as she took the first corner. Nick was still engrossed in his
blonde.
He'd never seen her. He didn't see Natalie's heart get smashed
into pieces, or feel her pain at the loss of trust and faith in her
struggling Knight. Somewhere inside her, a bizarre sense of humor
asserted itself and Natalie wondered how he'd missed it. He ought
to have smelled the blood pouring out of her broken heart. You know,
the one she'd just driven over and pulverized.
But he hadn't.
The Jerk. Sleazoid. Creep.
How dare he?
He was supposed to love her, wasn't he? WASN'T HE????
The words careened around her head, banging and clanging, and
battering her.
She slammed her way through the rest of her shift. Lips tight.
Emotions closed down until she was a series of sharp words and efficient
movements. Grace had the nerve to ask her what was wrong.
"Natalie," Grace asked hesitantly, "are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Natalie had snarled. "Why would you think otherwise?"
She so seldom got this way--and certainly never before at work--that
Grace just backed off.
"Uh, nothing," Grace said with a gulp, hands raised and backed out.
Natalie was scary when she shut down like that. She shut herself
down into a tight little ball--until there was nobody allowed inside but
her--and even that was a tight squeeze. It was the only way she could
cope. Somehow Nick had become everything to her and since Janette had
left, she'd placed all her trust in him. All of it. And he'd just
taken it and thrown it in the trash.
She'd gone home and gone to bed. She wished she could cry, but she
couldn't. She was like polished steel. Or perhaps ice. Maybe she was
frozen. She sincerely didn't look forward to the thaw. She didn't
think she'd survive. She'd reached her limit. There was no lower place
to go.
"Yeah, right," Natalie muttered. She'd thought she'd reached the
depths, but she'd only started to descend into hell.
"Dr. Lambert," Seth Green, current Medical Examiner of Toronto,
said with a smile as he was let into the infirmary. "I've got some
really interesting stuff for you to work on this week."
Natalie got off her stool and headed for the counter where he was
dumping a lot of samples. It seemed that even if she was in prison, she
was still a prime researcher and the city of Toronto was determined to
wring every ounce it could out of her. After all, she was dirt cheap
these days, wasn't she? But Natalie didn't mind. It really was
something to do. What else was she going to do for 'Eight to Ten'
anyway? Write her autobiography? Tell the torrid story of her life
with the Vampires of Toronto? Yeah, right.
"Hi, Seth," Natalie said with a smile. "Good to see you, what've
we got today?"
Seth smiled. "I'm hoping you'll take on a rather large research
project. It's not just a today thing, but a several month thing. And
Natalie, when we get done, I think we'll be writing a book. You know
your ideas on tracing a vector pathogen...?"
Natalie smiled. It seemed she and Seth were on the same wavelength
about writing books. His was just a safer subject. But it sounded like
something to keep her occupied, and probably interested...
The bells clanged, and the lights turned off. Another day was
over. Another sleepless night ahead of her. Natalie sighed and stared
up at the ceiling. The paint was peeling. She hoped it wasn't lead-
based, or for that matter, that there was asbestos under it. She didn't
want to die in prison. She wanted to get out of here--the sooner, the
better--so she, like Spivey, could go out there and resolve her life.
She had plenty to resolve, more than a lifetime's worth, actually. And
she couldn't resolve any of it here, because she couldn't solve the
puzzle. She didn't have the key. Despite her ring-side seat at the
event, she didn't have a clue what happened. Not one. She stared at
the ugly, flaky yellow ceiling and began to think about it. She had to
try to find the one little thread that would unravel the whole. And
then the memories began to reel and dance before her again...
Natalie thought she was in control when she'd walked into the
precinct. The ice hadn't melted yet, so it was a reasonable (if stupid)
assumption. She just hadn't realized how much heat the sight of Nick
would generate. She'd avoided him for three days, which considering
everything, had been a feat of gigantic proportions. But that
particular day, she had a meeting with Reese on a case going to trial.
She couldn't avoid it.
As far as things went, the fates were with her. When she arrived,
he'd been out, and she'd breathed for the first time since entering the
precinct. She could have this meeting and be out of there before Nick
got back if she was lucky. But the fates have a rather delicious sense
of the ironic and are highly capricious. Natalie had walked out of
Reese's office as Nick had walked into the bullpen, Tracy trailing
behind him muttering about something.
Nick had stopped at the sight of Natalie. Tracy had bumped into
him with a muffled curse.
"Sorry, Trace," Nick murmured as he moved to cut off Natalie's
escape route out of the precinct.
Nat could still remember how her heart had dropped to her toes with
a heavy thud, and then rebounded to rev up into high gear. Fear gear.
No, anger gear. Seeing no escape she'd stopped and watched Nick's
approach.
"Natalie," he'd said quietly, "what's wrong?"
Nick was never one to dance around an issue, Natalie thought with
frustration. Why couldn't he have started with a 'how are you' or
something else mundane for her to lie her way through?
"Nothing," Natalie said with a slice of anger hanging off the word,
"I'm fine."
Nick's eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't sound fine, Nat...you've
been avoiding me. What's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" Natalie asked hysterically, feeling her voice
bubble up an octave. "What do you mean, WHAT'S WRONG? YOU KNOW DAMN
WELL WHAT'S WRONG!" Take that, Nick Vampire Knight, Natalie thought
somewhere between sanity and hysteria.
The background noise level dropped to zero. Heads slewed around to
watch the ongoing melodrama in their midst. Natalie knew that there
were several people watching like slavering dogs, who would be passing
this on with relish. The speed of gossip was faster than the speed of
light inside the Toronto PD. Grace would be hearing about this before
the conversation was even finished.
Nick stared at her, his eyes going from surprise to shock to anger
in less than a millisecond. He grabbed her hand and hauled her towards
the observation room.
Natalie heard someone swear under his breath. Nobody wanted to
miss this--and unfortunately--they were going to. Natalie licked her
lips. She wished she could miss this. She bet she was the only one.
Nick threw open the door and dragged her into the room. The door's
slam reverberated against the glass separating the room from
interrogation, and then seemed to echo around her head.
"What," Nick asked angrily, "was that, Natalie? What the hell are
you talking about?"
"Oh, don't give me that crap," Natalie said swinging around and
pulling her arm from his hand. "You've lied to me for the last time,
Nick. I've had it!"
"Lied?" Nick stared at her puzzled, his anger draining away.
"What lie? Natalie, what lie?"
Natalie paced the other end of the room like a caged tiger.
"I haven't lied to you, Nat," Nick said. "You know more about me
than anyone has ever known..."
"Except," Natalie cut in staring at him, her eyes like the ice,
reflecting the wasteland of her heart, "except for your little blonde.
She knows you better, doesn't she? It was all a lie. You just used me
for your damn cure. All the while you've been playing with someone else
and stringing me along. First Janette, and now...this little bimbo with
no clothes. You let me think you loved me, you bastard, for your
cure...and all the while you were out there having fun while I sat home
and..."
Nick grabbed her arms and stared at her, the anger on his face
palpable, the atmosphere in the room suddenly heavy. Breathing was
hard.
"Are you finished?" Nick asked in a voice she hardly recognized.
But Natalie was past understanding, and past comprehension. All she
felt was pain overwhelming her.
"No, I'm not fin..."
Nick pushed her against the wall, his hands hurting her arms. His
eyes shimmered green. Fear finally got through her anger and pain,
stopping her.
They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. Nick didn't
even seem to be struggling to control the vampire. Rather, he seemed to
be examining Natalie. Searching her, turning out her soul and judging
her. And suddenly she knew he found her wanting.
"Well, I am," Nick said softly, his voice sharper than any knife.
"I'm finished." It cut through her and left her open and bleeding. He
let her go, stepped back and turned. Without looking back, he wrenched
the door open, let it slam into the wall, and walked out of the
precinct.
Natalie had stared after him and felt her spine sag. She stepped
away from the wall, and grabbed at a chair and lowered herself into it.
"Oh no...," she whispered. It was like sanity rushed back into her
head and heart, like a fast moving tide, coming in. She knew Nick. He
didn't lie to her. He might not tell her everything. But he didn't
lie. And from the look on his face, the shock and pain and
astonishment, she suddenly had the feeling she'd read the situation
wrong.
You can never judge somebody else until you've walked a mile in his
shoes...
How many times had she heard that little piece of sage advice? How
many times did she have to learn this particular lesson?
Apparently at least one more time.
The ice inside cracked. Broke apart.
And Natalie began to cry...
"Natalie," Tracy said hesitantly from the doorway. "Are you okay?"
Natalie shook her head and turned away.
Tracy closed the door and came and knelt by her side. "Here," she
said, offering a tissue. Natalie took it and blew her nose.
"Can I help?" Tracy asked.
Natalie shook her head and cried harder. Tracy bit her lip and
then after a moment got up, dragged the other chair over, sat in it and
pulled Natalie's head onto her shoulder.
Natalie had cried out her pain and anger, and felt it wash away.
Finally her tears slowed and she sat up slowly. Her eyes were puffy and
red, her mascara smeared. Her eyeballs hurt and her nose was running.
She blew it again.
"Thanks," Natalie said softly.
"Want to talk about it?" Tracy asked.
"Not particularly," Natalie said. "I think I just made a world-
class fool of myself. And I may have just completely ruined
everything."
"Hey," Tracy said. "You have to do that at least once in every
relationship."
Natalie looked at her in despair.
"Natalie," Tracy said, "relationships that are built brick by brick
the way you've built yours with Nick, don't fall apart at the first
storm. They're a lot sturdier than you think."
"You have no idea, Tracy," Natalie murmured staring through the
glass into the interrogation room.
"Yeah, I know. But if I had to guess, I'd think he betrayed
you...or at least you think he betrayed you. Another woman?"
Natalie turned and looked at Tracy in surprise.
"I like Nick," Tracy said, "but that doesn't stop me from being a
detective. Being observant. Woman drape themselves in front of him,
over him, and around him. I don't know why, but they do. I'd think
that would be a lot of temptation, even for a guy with Nick's control."
"Yeah, well he doesn't have all that much control," Natalie said
with a sigh. "He acts first and thinks later."
"Maybe, but he still loves you. It was all over his face when he
left. I've never seen so much pain written on a guy's face, Natalie."
Natalie slowly shredded the tissue. "Maybe."
"Did he really step out on you? Are you sure?" Tracy asked.
Natalie shook her head. "No..., not absolutely, but..."
"Then why don't you go talk to him. Brush up on Robert's Rules of
Order and go talk to him. Don't judge him. No yelling. Just talk..."
Natalie sighed. "How'm I to ever get out of here? I'm a mess, and
everybody is out there waiting for the next act."
Tracy smiled. "One step at a time, Natalie. It's the only way."
Natalie shook her head. It just seemed so impossible. One moment
she was full of righteous wrath, and then just when she was getting it
all out of her system and dumping it on a most deserving target--the
target changed. Nick had made her feel like the bad guy in this. And
she wasn't. But then perhaps, neither was he.
A mile in his shoes.
She hadn't even gone five steps in his shoes. She couldn't even
begin to imagine. But maybe she could go ask. After she apologized.
"All right, Trace," Natalie said with a sigh. "I guess I'll go try
again. This time with some sanity."
Tracy smiled and patted her shoulder. Natalie got up and Tracy
followed her out of the observation room, through the suddenly noisy
bullpen where everyone abruptly had something to do, and out into the
parking lot .
Natalie had sat in her car in the parking lot for a long time,
wondering what to do. She was divided. She felt angry and betrayed.
She felt guilty and foolish. She hurt. She was confused. It was, she
supposed, finally, a byproduct of being in love. Her thoughts went
round and round, leaving her head spinning, until finally with a
frustrated groan, she'd started the car and gone back to work.
Grace had raised an eyebrow when she walked in.
"Don't even start," Natalie said and walked into her office. Grace
had the good sense not to follow.
Natalie didn't do anything functional and useful or remotely
related to her job the rest of the night. She tried to figure out,
sitting in the cold green-tiled room, what she wanted and what she
should do. She remembered reading somewhere (probably next to the damn
quote about walking in someone's shoes) that often people threw away the
things they wanted most for the things they wanted right now. Blinded
by emotion, passion, and desire, people didn't think things through.
And they often lost what they valued most. Addicted people came to mind
as she thought it over, chewing on a fingernail. People in love, she
thought ironically, were probably a close second.
But knowing logically and rationally didn't help her to figure out
what was ultimately the most important thing to have in her life. Was
it Nick? Would he be there? Would he make her happy? What about
children? The what ifs were endless. But in the end she knew that she
didn't want to lose him, not like this. She valued him too much. If
the time he remained in her life was only a short time, it was still
worth it.
Natalie looked at the clock.
Dawn.
Nick would be home now. That is, if he went home after what had
happened.
It was now or never.
"Why," she asked herself, "do I always have to do this?"
Natalie gathered her purse and her courage up and left.
His car was there. He had at least come home. Whether he was
still there, or even alone, was another question.
Slowly, Natalie punched in the security code. It still worked.
She didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She opened the
door and stared into the gaping darkness. The jaws of hell, more like.
Then after a deep breath, she stepped into it, and punched the button.
The elevator groaned, echoing her pain, as it rose. And the higher it
rose, the lower Natalie's heart sank.
It stopped. Locked into place. Natalie hesitantly put her hand on
the door and after another moment, pulled it open. She did not step out
into the darkness, but instinctively, she knew he was there.
"Nick," she said slowly. "I'm so...sorry. May I come in?"
Silence.
She waited.
There was a movement somewhere. A whisper of sound. And then a
light came on. She met his eyes across the room. Vulnerable. Hurt.
Despairing. It was all there in his eyes, mirroring her own.
She stepped into the room.
Natalie licked her lips and took a deep breath. "When I was
sixteen, I fell in love with Scott Egan. He was a year older than I
was, and I thought he was to die for. More amazing than that, he
actually liked me, and we started dating. He was cute and socially
adept and a lot more popular than I was, and I got jealous. Even now
when I think back on it, I'm humiliated at my behavior. I was a
complete idiot, a love-sick fool. And so things didn't exactly work
with Scott." Natalie stared down at her hands, afraid to look at Nick.
She noticed they were shaking.
"I made up my mind that I would never behave like that again. And
I haven't. But then again, I never let myself fall in love
again...until you. What I felt for Scott was nothing compared to the
love that I...feel for you. The point being, I suppose, that I'm not
all that much together when it comes to this love thing, Nick."
She looked up and met his eyes across the room. "I am sorry for
today. I saw you on Monday night at the Raven. What I saw probably
doesn't touch the truth, Nick. But I can't mistake bite marks, and I
know what that generally means...and it hurt. And then I hurt you back.
There's no excuse."
Nick looked down and Natalie saw that he was staring at an almost
empty bottle in his hand. A shadow of pain crossed his face. He shook
his head and then met her gaze again.
"I'm sorry, too. All I ever seem to do is hurt you. You would be
far better off not knowing me," he said bitterly.
"Don't, Nick," Natalie said unsteadily. "Don't. It's just life.
I do know you, and I wouldn't want it any other way." She moved into
the room a little farther, feeling the ice receding and a thaw setting
in between them.
Nick turned away, his shoulders slumped and then suddenly he
slammed the bottle into the wall. The glass broke and fell to the
ground in a shower of splinters.
"Nick?" Natalie said uncertainly moving forward.
He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. "You weren't
wrong, Natalie. About Monday."
Natalie stopped dead and bit her lip to keep the tears from
falling.
"But it wasn't what you think." Nick opened his eyes and stared at
his hand. "Damn," he said, and pulled a sliver of glass out of his
flesh impatiently. Blood welled up and he wiped it across his already
splattered shirt.
"Do you want me to bandage that?" Nat asked in an almost impartial
tone. She was proud that it didn't shake like the rest of her was.
Nick shook his head. "No. It'll heal soon enough."
"So, what was Monday about then?" Natalie asked.
Nick turned away and walked into the kitchen. He laughed bitterly
as he leaned against the counter. "It was about you."
Natalie swallowed and looked away. Fine way to show it, she
thought, but she held her tongue.
"Ever since the possession," Nick said softly. "I've been slowly
losing control. The need for human blood was so powerful, and that
coupled with how I feel about you...well, it was getting to the point
that I couldn't be around you at all, Nat."
Natalie looked up in surprise.
"You hadn't noticed how little time I spent around you?" Nick asked
at her look.
"Yes, I'd noticed. But I didn't understand. I thought you
were...well, I didn't know what to think."
Nick shook his head. "How could you? I didn't tell you. I
couldn't tell you. Sometimes I wanted you so badly, that I couldn't be
in the same room with you. The blood...just kept calling to me.
Everything was out of balance. Everything. Control is everything to a
vampire. And I didn't have it around you. It happens sometimes--at
least it has happened to me before. Maybe it's because I drink steer
blood, I don't know. I just sometimes lose control. When it's happened
in the past, I would go to Janette. Vampire blood can...calm. It..."
Nick clenched his hands into tight fists. "It can help rebalance
things. I don't know how to describe it."
Natalie had been circumscribing arcs with her toe as he'd talked,
but she looked up at that. "I think what you are trying to say is that
you get a well-balanced meal after being on a starvation diet."
Nick laughed at that. "Sort of, I suppose. But it's more than
that. It's more than if you got one meal. It sates the appetites and
seems to settle problems." He ran his hand through his hair in
frustration. "Anyway, Janette isn't here. She's best because she's
related by blood--and that was all it was--was a sharing of blood. And
I was damned if I'd go to LaCroix, because, well...he ... he knows too
much about my soul as it is. I don't like giving him that kind of
advantage. He's never stopped trying to get me to return to the
family..."
"So that didn't leave a lot of options," Natalie said slowly
walking into the kitchen and leaning on the counter beside him.
"No," Nick said shortly. "I needed something that I *knew* I
couldn't get from what I'm drinking or the protein shakes. I knew what
it was, I just didn't know where to get it."
"But the blonde was someone you felt you could ask?" Natalie asked
hesitantly.
"Yeah. She's not real happy as a vampire. She doesn't like
killing. She doesn't take it lightly. I felt that she might
understand."
"And she did?"
Nick looked away. "Yes."
Natalie bit her lip and thought about what she wanted to ask and
what she should ask. Had he had sex with the blonde, or just blood?
And wasn't that sex anyway? Did it make a difference?
But she didn't have to ask. "She's very kind, Natalie. She helped
to heal me. And I owed her for that. After all, she let me see her
soul, everything about her when she let me take her blood. I could do
no less for her. But that was all."
Natalie stared at the ground and swallowed. After a moment she
said in a low voice. "It just seems so unfair, Nick. Even this blood
thing...is so much more intimate than anything we could have even if we
were..." She stopped. It was stupid anyway.
"Lovers?" Nick asked finally.
Natalie nodded her head.
"Yes and no. Natalie, I don't love her." He raked a hand through
his hair in frustration. "She knows that. She's not expecting
anything, either. When she... took my blood she saw my soul, Nat. My
inner-most heart. She knows how I feel about you." Nick turned and
looked at Natalie. The look in his eyes made her heart begin to pound.
"She told me," Nick said finally, softly, "that she wished somebody
cared about her that much. Anybody. She thought you and I were really
lucky to have each other. To have what we have. To care..."
Natalie stared into his eyes, dark now with undercurrents of
passion. "Do you really?" Natalie asked softly.
"Care that much? Oh, Natalie, I wish I could show you somehow,
tell you, how much I care. I'm not very good at saying things--I've
spent too many centuries learning to keep it all inside, to live a lie
to keep the mortals I'm close to safe. Honesty usually ends up getting
people killed. Not to mention the less a mortal knows about vampires
the safer it is--for everybody."
Nick stared down at his hand. He scratched at it. "Damn, there's
still glass in there."
"Let me take a look," Natalie said reaching for his hand.
He let her take it, and for a moment both were still at the
electricity that seemed to tingle through them. Nick cleared his throat
and looked away.
"Let me get my scapel," Natalie said. "It's building up a blood
blister or something. It must be blocking a blood vessel."
She pulled her emergency kit out of her purse and found the scapel
quickly. She sliced into his hand deftly, but they were surprised when
blood splattered them both.
"Sorry," Nick said with a laugh at Natalie's gasp.
She looked at him tartly while wiping the blood from her face and
smearing it across her blouse. "Well, at least I know I won't get AIDs
from you. But that's the only upside here. I *liked* this blouse."
"I'll buy you a new one," Nick promised as she continued digging
into his hand.
"Damn right, you will," Natalie agreed. "Oh, here it is. This is
a pretty big chunk of glass. You've really got to stop slamming glass
bottles around like that."
"I know," Nick said. "But it was your fault."
"My fault!" Natalie exclaimed. "How can you say that this was..."
She stopped and stared at him and realized he was teasing her. How far
they had come from the anger and despair of only a few moments ago.
Natalie took a breath. "Very clever, Nick. But I still don't like
it, you know."
"I know. I'm sorry, Natalie. Truly I am. If I could've found
some other way, I would have."
"Why didn't you tell me, maybe I could have put something
together..."
"Nat...there was nothing you could make. I--I *needed* the blood.
I tried everything else."
"But you didn't tell me."
Nick took her hands in his, and shook his head. "I couldn't,
Natalie. I just couldn't. Not only because it's kind of a touchy
subject, but I couldn't be near you. And if we'd started talking about
how we felt...well, you'd probably be..." He stopped and stared down at
her hands. "Anyway, it wasn't an acceptable alternative."
Natalie stared at their clasped hands and noticed that now she had
blood on her hands, too. Everything it seemed came back to...
"Blood," Natalie said.
"What?" Nick asked, lost.
"There is blood on my hands. Blood on my clothes. Blood on the
walls. For such a rational discussion, this has gotten awfully bloody."
Nick looked into her eyes and started to laugh. He pulled her into
his arms and hugged her tightly. He whispered against her hair. "I
guess it's one of fate's ironies, Nat. This has all been about blood.
I'm sorry I hurt you, but I'm glad I did it. Because now I can hold you
close, and can tuck you against my heart and just be content to hold
you. I couldn't do that two days ago."
"So?" Natalie asked leaning into him.
"I don't care about the blood. I'll buy you a whole new outfit."
Natalie looked up. "I'm going to hold you to..."
She never finished the sentence as Nick suddenly kissed her,
pulling her tighter against him still. His lips were soft, his touch
sensuous. And all the pain of the last three days drained away with her
last conscious thoughts...
Natalie felt the adrenaline rush through just at the remembrance of
that night. She turned over and pounded her lumpy pillow into something
reasonable and tried to distance herself from her emotions. Footsteps
sounded in the hall. The patrol making their rounds. She turned her
head into the pillow and let the tears flow. Silently she cried. It
had been a perfect day. Nick had been closer to her that night than
ever. He'd kissed her, held her, told her he loved her. He pushed the
limits of control, kissing her, touching her, even though his eyes had
been gold. And she had been unafraid. Confident and trusting that he
would know the limits. And he had. Eventually, she had gone home,
tired and exhausted, but happy and content. His last words, spoken as
she left his arms and entered the lift, still echoed in her heart.
"We'll find a way, Natalie. We'll find a way to be together, no
matter what. I love you..."
And that was the last time she'd seen him. That was the last
anybody had seen of Nick Knight.
He hadn't shown up for work the next night. Reese had called her
when they hadn't been able to raise him to ask if she knew where he was.
Natalie had been surprised and then frightened as the night wore on
without any word from him. Finally, she and Tracy had gone over to the
loft. The ride up the elevator had been as frightening as the previous
night's ride. And when they'd opened the door, only silence had greeted
them.
"Nick," Natalie called uncertainly.
"Hey, Nick, you here?" Tracy yelled. No answer. They stared at
each other. And then they had started looking around.
"What is this?" Tracy asked staring at the dried blood and broken
glass on the floor by the stairs. Natalie came over and joined her. It
was the remains of the shattered bottle he'd broken in anger the night
before. Natalie felt her heart jolt at the sight. Nick was fastidious.
He never left things like that lying around. He had a fetish for
neatness.
She rushed up the stairs two at a time and entered the bedroom.
The room was neat, clean, empty--except for his shirt--lying on the
floor. His very bloody shirt. Instinctively, Natalie knew he had never
made it to bed after she left. Yet, where could he go? How could he
have left? And more pressing--why?
Tracy called in the forensics team before Natalie had even realized
it. The preliminary search revealed blood splatters on the kitchen
floor, blood on the wall, blood on the railing, and a bloody shirt.
What it didn't reveal was Nick or his whereabouts.
Natalie in a daze answered questions. Yes, she had been there the
previous night. Yes, he'd been fine when she left. The blood? He'd
cut his hand during their argument. She saw no reason to lie. There
was nothing about their argument that hadn't been public really. She
couldn't deny what had happened in the precinct. It was well documented
by the personnel from the 96th precinct.
And then it spiraled downwards. They'd searched her place. Found
her bloody blouse and scapel (she'd forgotten to clean it--after all
she'd been on cloud 9), and one other piece of evidence for which
Natalie had no explanation--a piece of rope with blood on it. And it
was all matched to Nick's blood type. The one she'd put on file. The
one she'd manufactured for him.
Before she knew it, she'd gone from girlfriend to suspect. It had
been a short, unbelievable step from there to convicted felon.
A very bad dream and even worse reality. It was so insane. The
evidence has been thin--extremely thin--and circumstantial. Yet here
she was, six months into her sentence of eight to ten years with the
possibility of parole at six, for good behavior.
It just wasn't possible.
But it was...
The only solution she could come up with after she examined the
possibility of sheer bad luck was that she'd been framed. If she had
been framed, then why, and by whom? She had no answers.
Nick had said he loved her. He said he wouldn't leave her. He
said they would find a way. And then he'd vanished. Natalie couldn't
believe he would've left of his own free will.
The only person she knew who was strong enough to force him to
leave was...
LaCroix.
And it still didn't make sense. Why would LaCroix force Nick out--
especially then--when things between them had been so good? And why
would he frame Natalie for the 'murder'? She would love to have five
minutes to chat with Nick's nasty old man, but she didn't think she
would ever get it. He wasn't on the radio anymore. She'd checked. He
wasn't running the Raven anymore. Tracy had verified that for her,
despite her puzzlement.
LaCroix was gone. Which, when she thought about it made perfect
sense. He was, after all, attached to Nick by a short tether, so if
Nick were gone, then LaCroix would be, too. Especially if he was the
one who'd forced him out.
And she would never know what had happened. She would never find
him.
Fate was indeed capricious, devious, and downright wicked.
On that depressing thought, Natalie finally fell asleep.
Morning came far too soon. The bell clamored, startling her awake.
Her eyes felt gritty and puffy. And she was no closer to an answer.
But then she never was. With a sigh, Natalie got up and dressed. She
supposed she could look on the bright side, at least she didn't have to
make any wardrobe choices when she was not even awake. She used to
stand for ten minutes in her closet trying to focus enough to make her
outfit match--particularly after a short night.
Short night. That's what it had been. And now another long
dreaded day lay before her. Sometimes it felt more like twenty-to-
thirty than eight-to-ten.
The day brought more research, and despite herself, Natalie found
herself intrigued by the theories she and Seth were pursuing. She was
staring at the umpteenth lab sample when Wilson cleared her throat.
"Ahem..."
"Yikes!" Natalie said sitting up abruptly and feeling her heart
rate climb radically.
"Sorry about that, but you didn't hear me the first time," Wilson
said.
"Oh, well...you know. Research. It...it's uh...riveting," Natalie
said a little wildly.
"Yeah, well, it'll have to wait. You've got a visitor."
"A visitor?" Natalie said surprised. She thought fast. She wasn't
expecting anyone this week. Sarah wasn't coming for at least another
couple of weeks, and she'd seen Grace just the other day. She couldn't
imagine who it would be. Without much family, and few friends who had
stuck with her after her conviction--she didn't have all that many
visitors.
"Yeah. Let's move it."
Natalie got up and automatically ran a hand through her hair,
smoothing it. "Uh, do you know who it is?" she asked.
Wilson shook her head. "Nope."
So much for that. Natalie followed her down the hall, through four
lock-down doorways from medium to minimum security and then into the
public areas. She was stopped and patted down before being let into the
visitor's room.
"Remember," the guard warned her, "your conversation may be
monitored," as he led her to a booth.
Stunned Natalie sat down at the table, and stared through the glass
at her visitor. Of all the people in the world, this was one person she
had never expected to see. She felt the blood drain from her face.
Her visitor quirked an eyebrow.
Natalie licked her lips and picked up the phone. Her visitor
picked up the phone on his side of the glass.
"Delightful to see you, Doctor Lambert," he said smoothly.
"LaCroix...," Natalie said. She took a breath. "What do you
want?"
"Really," LaCroix said softly, "is that anyway to greet a friend?"
"No. But then you aren't one, are you?"
LaCroix looked pained. "Oh, but I am, Doctor, I assure you. I am.
"Yeah, and how's that?" Natalie asked sarcastically.
LaCroix looked at her with amusement in his icy blue eyes.
"Doctor, I could help you gain your freedom from this...establishment."
Natalie felt her heart speed up, and saw with irritation the slight
smile that passed over LaCroix' face. It was very difficult to have any
kind of tactical advantage when dealing with a vampire. She really
hated that a vampire could read all your physiological changes no matter
what mask you presented. The sheer smugness she'd seen in that merest
whisper of a smile angered her, and she felt an unexpected surge of
excitement in the challenge of doing battle with LaCroix.
She leaned back in her chair. "And why would you do that?"
"Oh, perhaps to help a mutual friend of ours..."
Natalie sat up. "So you did have something to do with..."
"Please, Doctor," LaCroix said. "Remember where you are."
"Are you worried that the walls have ears?" Natalie asked tartly,
amused. "There's not much more they can do to me, you see."
LaCroix laughed, the heavy lids sweeping down over his eyes,
releasing her from the intensity of his gaze. He idly traced a design
on the table in front of him.
"Unless," Natalie said thoughtfully, "it might hurt you..."
LaCroix lifted an eyebrow and looked at her as if she were nothing.
"Hardly, my dear. I assure that no one will take any interest in this
conversation."
"You couldn't have talked to the guard monitoring."
"No. The warden. He has already taken care of everything."
"So why are you spending quality time with me? I'm hardly the
Queen of England," Natalie asked with a slight barb twisting the words.
"No," he said candidly and cruelly. "You are just a pawn, who has
been most easily removed from the playing field."
Natalie met his mocking gaze with a narrowed eyes. Two could play
words games. She hadn't spent all that time with Nana for nothing.
"I prefer to think that the pawn is merely in a sticky situation.
Down, but not out, you know," Natalie said leaning forward, feeling a
certain relish in sparing with the big bad wolf.
LaCroix watched with amusement, but Natalie examining him closely,
saw the slightest tightening around his eyes. So, she thought, mentally
sitting up straighter, *the game's afoot*.
"So, if the pawn is off the field, why are you here?"
"I have a proposition for you, Doctor. One that will release you
from this place--if you cooperate."
"No," Natalie said after a moment. "Not without knowing what
happened that night. You were responsible for the...," she scrambled
mentally, not being much of a chess player, for an appropriate piece,
"...king's disappearance. After you tell me all the gory details, then
I'll think about it."
"Hardly the king," LaCroix answered. "Perhaps the...no, perhaps
the knight would be an...interesting...choice. Let's call it the
knight, shall we?"
"Whatever," Natalie said in amusement. "It's appropriate. I think
we've all got the pieces straight here. So talk."
LaCroix met her glare with his own icy gaze. "The pawn hardly needs
to know the details."
"Oh, yes, the pawn definitely and absolutely needs details.
Otherwise you can go. The door is right behind you," Natalie said
tightly pointing to the door. She was not about to be dictated to by
LaCroix or anyone else.
"It's not in your best interests, Doctor," LaCroix said, menace
thinly icing his words.
Natalie snorted. "You're telling the defunct pawn what's in it's
interest. Oh, come on! The only reason I can think of that you don't
want to discuss this, is because it reveals the weakness in your
strategy. The loophole you forgot. And frankly, I don't care. I want
to know. I need to know!. So start talking. That's the only deal
right now. You tell me the story, if you want me to even consider
cooperation. You are, after all, the opponent, shall we say?"
LaCroix' eyes gleamed in genuine amusement. He was silent for a
moment and Natalie desperately wished she could read his face, but she
couldn't. He'd had far greater experience in negotiating with the enemy
than she could ever hope to achieve in her lifetime.
"Very well, Doctor. Have it your way," LaCroix said smoothly. He
looked at her, judging her, and, Natalie suspected, reworking his story.
Truth would probably be sketchy. But she could read between the lines--
Nick had made her proficient at that.
"It would seem," LaCroix said finally, almost Natalie thought,
reluctantly, "that the knight, which was safely in the King's keeping
has, indeed, been mislaid."
*So you're the king,* Natalie thought. *How very egocentrically
fitting.* But she kept that thought to herself, and moved to the
important point.
"Mislaid?" Natalie asked. "And how did it come to be in your...uh,
the King's keeping in the first place? I thought the knight had
declared it's independence."
LaCroix glared at her. "Independence! Suicide is more
appropriate. Insanity."
"Keep to the plot, LaCroix," Natalie ordered. "What happened?"
LaCroix looked at her measuringly, and Natalie wondered if she had
been wrong. Maybe truth was the only thing that would get him whatever
it was that he wanted.
"The knight," LaCroix said finally, "made an agreement a long time
ago. Perhaps you've heard of it. It's an old tale, practically
medieval, I believe. The knight's sister..."
Natalie raised an eyebrow, "I know the plot. The one where she
fell in love with the wrong guy, and the knight made a rather stupid
promise."
"An eye for an eye. A simple agreement--pain paid for by equal
measure of pain," LaCroix said with suave urbanity.
Natalie leaned forward. "And you forced the knight off the field
with that agreement? You *bastard!* What did you do? Threaten to kill
m.. the pawn before the day was out?"
"You seem to have a comprehension for the intricacies of the plot,
Doctor."
"How did you do it? Did you have his place bugged?"
LaCroix laughed, genuinely amused. "Oh, Doctor, really. One
hardly need resort to such primitive methods. He really is a very poor
poker player, I'm afraid. He broadcasts everything. One could tune
into him, much like a television channel--quite entertaining, you know."
"The link. I've always wondered about that. How does it work?"
Natalie asked, diverted.
"In chess, my dear, one never gives away more than one has to..."
"Naturally," Natalie said dryly. "So you knew. You planned ahead
for this contingency?"
"As you should well know, any decent strategist is always looking
several plays ahead in the game of chess..."
"And I thought you agreed to keep out of his life."
"Would you not step in to prevent suicide, Doctor?"
Natalie struggled to control her anger. "Nobody was in danger of
dying, let alone suicide."
"Actually, I think you were...but that is beside the point."
"Damn right it is. And I was in no danger. He'd never hurt me."
"He's said that before. But the results were always the same.
Mortals do ... die."
Natalie glared at him. "But you don't care about pawns, remember?
It was of no importance to you. Just like this particular pawn was and
is, of no importance to you. Unless it can help you stack the deck to
your pleasing--and then when you've done that, you'll eliminate it,
won't you?"
LaCroix watched her, his face revealing nothing. Silence lasted
for what seemed like an eternity, but was only thirty or forty seconds.
"My view of ...pawns is not the issue, Doctor. If he had killed
you, it would have destroyed him. Much to my dismay, Natalie... may I
call you that?" Natalie merely glared at him. "Much to my dismay,
Natalie, you have achieved a position in his life unlike any other in
all the time I've known him. Your death would have resulted in his. I
know my son. He lives rather intensely and gloriously in the moment.
Before his change of heart, he was the most exciting and beautiful
creature I've ever known. But that intensity blinds him. And he cannot
see the consequences. I can and do. Just as you would stop a suicide,
so did I."
"And what exactly were the terms of this latest agreement?" Natalie
asked, hardly breathing, unable to believe how much LaCroix had impacted
her life, her hopes and her love. She wanted to kill him. She wanted
to reach through the glass and throttle him--but not until she had all
the details--and then she could find Nick.
"The terms? If he left the field with me immediately, your life
would be spared. If he tried to do anything else such as contact you or
anyone else in his life, then you would die. Another pair of er...
pawns were in place to make sure it happened at a single word from the
King," LaCroix said matter of factly. "Before sunset. Before he could
reach you. If he left his life behind and walked away then and there,
you would live and I would leave you alone."
"You are a bastard," Natalie breathed. "You think I would have
destroyed him--but you were wrong. You did. You destroyed his hope by
taking away his life and his freedom. And on top of that, you lied.
And while I'm thinking about it, what about that piece of rope, nicely
dipped in Nick's blood type?"
LaCroix shrugged dismissively. "Oh that. Just a little insurance
that you would be preoccupied. I didn't need any more of your bungling,
Doctor. He was already well on his way to self-destructing."
"And eight to ten years of my life is your idea of keeping me
preoccupied? How the hell could you? Who died and made you God?"
LaCroix watched her with a glint of amusement. "Just about
everybody," he said silkily. "I believe that left it up to me to do as
I saw fit."
"Yeah, well you have one skewed view of life, LaCroix. Anybody
ever tell you that?"
LaCroix tightened his lips for a moment. "Don't try my patience,
Doctor."
"Oh, because you'll stop being magnanimous and withdraw this favor
you're dangling out there like a carrot stick?"
He stared at her, his eyes dark and colder than the frozen tundra
of the Arctic. Despite herself, Natalie shivered.
"Don't waste my time with your posturing, Doctor. Your life is
short enough as it is. A mere eye blink, my dear. Do you want to spend
it behind bars?"
"No," Natalie said shortly. "I can think of other scenarios I'd
prefer." She shifted tactics and returned to Nick. "So he went with
you. Where?"
"France," LaCroix said, his voice clipped.
"And he was just as much a prisoner as me," Natalie said softly,
staring into LaCroix' eyes but not seeing him. Only seeing Nick's pain
and anguish and despair. "It must have killed him."
"He was hardly confined, Natalie. He had his wings clipped so that
he could heal. Or if you prefer--checkmate."
"It would seem that they didn't stay clipped, or...he managed to
get out of checkmate--slipped out of your grasp. It sounds like he's
not a bad chess player himself. He knows how to maximize his moves."
"A very poor move, my dear, because he still cannot reach the pawn
before I can--as you can see."
Natalie stared at him through the glass. The phone was suddenly
slippery in her grasp and her heart went into overtime. "What are you
implying? This offer is what? A speedy death for the pawn?"
"Regrettably, no," LaCroix replied with amusement.
"Regrettably?" Natalie squeaked, and then swallowed down her fear
and anger. "So it was a bluff?"
"I never bluff, Doctor," LaCroix said coldly. "And he knows that.
But, since I don't know where he is, and you don't know where he is--it
requires a reworking of the game. Your death at this point would
accomplish nothing but to destroy him. Before, the pieces were trapped
and the game was almost over. All that was left was to make him
understand how foolish he'd been--how dangerous his course of action was
to you. Unfortunately, with his escape, we've begun a brand new game.
He has taken the first step, and now I have taken the second."
"To get control over the pawn...," Natalie said softly. "Whoever
controls the pawn, will most likely control the game."
LaCroix quirked an eyebrow. "You would probably be a formidable
opponent. We must really play a game one of these days."
Natalie stared at him. "Damn you. Damn both of you. Why can't
you just accept each other's differences and enjoy life? Why do you
have to spread your squabbles all over everybody else? You've ruined my
life and career, just because you think you know what is best for him.
He's eight-hundred years old. He is not a child. He is an adult. He
can make his own choices."
"No sane creature," LaCroix said coldly, "wills it's own death."
"He's not committing suicide, he's searching for a cure."
"A cure that will kill him. Destroy him. Even if such a cure
existed--which it doesn't--he's been what he is for eight hundred years,
Doctor. He was only mortal for a little over thirty. He wouldn't
survive a day. And it would be your fault. Do you want his death on
your hands, Doctor?"
Natalie looked away and willed the tears that suddenly welled up to
go away. She was not going to let him manipulate her like this. She
was not!
"This is beside the point. It is something we will never agree on--
so let's just move on, okay? Let me guess, you think his first move
will to be to rescue me--assuming he knows what happened. Did you tell
him?"
"Hardly, Doctor. But I think we may safely assume that by now, he
knows what happened."
"That's not gonna make him a happy camper."
"He's never a 'happy camper', Doctor. It's also immaterial."
Natalie finally looked at LaCroix and met his gaze. "So what do
you want?"
"I will arrange your release. New evidence can come to light
proving he is not dead. You will be released within the week."
"And in exchange for this--what?" Natalie stared at LaCroix. She
could not imagine that it would be a good thing to be free. It would
make her incredibly vulnerable to whatever LaCroix had planned. It
would put him in a position to kill her before Nick could approach her.
Suddenly her cell seemed quite comfortable, roomy and homey. Maybe
eight to ten wasn't such a bad idea. At least she would be protected
and give Nick as much of a chance to win as LaCroix. Either way, she
wasn't terribly happy with what might happen to her. If Nick rescued
her, she would have to vanish. Not that she had that much left to lose,
but still it was her right to chose to give it up. Right now, she
didn't see many choices being offered by either of the vampires in her
life.
"Your cooperation. Help me bring him back to stability."
"How do I know that wouldn't cost me my life. If you don't bluff,
I can see you easily putting your original threat into practice."
"I assure you, Doctor, you would be in no danger from me. The
danger is from him. His emotions are running amok. He is completely
out of control. I don't think you would survive an encounter with him.
He would, if you'll forgive me for saying so, Doctor, kill you out of
love."
Natalie met his gaze stoically.
"Trust me, Doctor. If I wanted you dead, this prison would not
prevent me from accomplishing the task. I need you alive, and I need
you to stay alive so that he will live."
"I don't believe you," Natalie said coldly. "I don't believe he's
that out of control. I don't buy it."
LaCroix stared back at her, his eyes suddenly full of hate. The
malevolence of his glare was more frightening that she had thought
possible. "Doctor," he said, anger dripping off of every syllable like
daggers, "let me be very clear. I ... miscalculated. Before he
disappeared he had become extremely irrational. He was *not* sane.
Whatever frame of mind he's in, you may be sure, it won't be safe for
you. The only way to survive is with my protection."
Natalie weighed carefully what she knew about Nick and what she
knew about LaCroix. Instinctively, she knew that no matter what state
Nick was in, he wouldn't hurt her. She remembered clearly when he'd
been possessed by the demon. She had never been more frightened of Nick
than that night in Venderwal's house. But even the demon couldn't make
him kill her. A devil whispered in her ear, what if he does? Better,
she thought philosophically to die at Nick's hands than LaCroix'. And
that was her only choice. She trusted Nick. She didn't trust LaCroix.
He thought he was God. He would change the rules any time it suited
him. Today she was worth more alive than dead. Tomorrow it could be
the other way around. It wasn't one game, it was three of five or five
of eight or however many it took until he got the results he wanted.
She was a pawn in his eyes--just a piece to be used until it's
usefulness was over...
Nick loved her...
"No," Natalie said abruptly. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll take my
chances."
LaCroix stared at her, lips thinning into rage. "I think you
should reconsider."
"No," Natalie reiterated. "I think I'll stay here in my cosy cell
and watch how the game develops."
"That was your only opportunity to have a choice, Doctor," LaCroix
said in a steely voice. "You are still a pawn..."
"In your eyes obviously...," Natalie cut across him. "But I'm not
playing your game..."
LaCroix smiled viciously. His amusement was almost more
frightening to Natalie than his anger. "How foolish of you, my dear.
You will play whether you want to or not. You already are. But it is a
pity. It could have been so much more comfortable for you if you had
agreed."
"Go to hell!" Natalie said and hung up. She stood up and yelled.
"Guard! I'm finished."
She saw with relief the guard enter. She glanced back at LaCroix
and wished she hadn't. She didn't know how Nick had ever survived him,
but he had. It had made him stronger, more resilient. Natalie vowed
she would survive, too. She was not his pawn, and she was not going to
be. Never, never, never.
She turned away and followed the guard out without looking back
again.
Another night. Another sleepless night. Natalie tossed and
turned, hearing LaCroix' voice whispering in her head. "If I wanted you
dead, this prison would not prevent me from accomplishing the task..."
She turned over and pulled the pillow over her head, hoping to
drown out his threat. She didn't even bother to wonder who would help
him. Anybody would help him. They'd look into his eyes and do it
without question. And then they would never be able to explain why
afterwards--assuming they didn't just kill themselves as part of the
plan. It would be like LaCroix to leave no loose ends.
Natalie felt vulnerable in ways she hadn't known before. Scared,
yes, she'd been that. Terrified of the unknown coming into prison. But
she'd dealt with that--more or less--and all the power plays going on,
all the sexual innuendo. So far she'd survived. But she didn't know if
she could survive a war between Nick and LaCroix.
Nick. Just knowing he was out there and probably headed her way
filled her with joy and terror. There was no way to warn him that she
was the cheese in the mousetrap and that LaCroix was waiting. But then
he probably knew that. He would know it better than anyone. They'd
been playing this game for centuries. Just not with her as the prize
before. She swallowed her fear down at the thought.
If Nick rescued her, she'd be an escapee most likely. She'd be on
the run for the rest of her life. Natalie laughed at the irony of it.
Being on a wanted list was the least of her problems. LaCroix would be
after them, and that was far worse. If she were a betting woman, she'd
bet she would last a week at the outside. To the best of her knowledge,
Nick had never won against LaCroix. Never. Ever.
And yet, would that week be worth it? She'd already lost her
career, her reputation, her friends. If she lost her life in Nick's
arms, would it be so bad?
"Idiot," Natalie said to herself. "I want to live. I want to be
in control of my life. I don't want either of them to make my choices."
But she knew that given the chance, they would. Two big macho
vampires fighting over the idea of freedom. The right to choose.
LaCroix saw it that Nick had no right to choose mortality because it was
death.
And Nick struggled for the freedom to simply choose his own path--
wherever it led. The oppressor and the oppressed. Eternally fighting.
She was just this decade's battleground. How nice.
Tears leaked from her eyes.
"Nick, where are you?" Natalie asked the wall. "What do you have
planned?"
And then she began to wonder what he'd been through the last six
months. What had LaCroix done to him? What had walking away that night
done to his soul? The months of imprisonment? Had he gone mad? Or was
it an act? Could he fool LaCroix? Could anyone?
France. They had gone to France. She could see it all when she
closed her eyes. It played out as if she was there on the inside of her
eyelids. Despair was in every line of his body. His eyes closed in
defeat, sitting in a seat--a cushy seat--in a private jet, with LaCroix
at his side sipping bloodwine.
Nick was mute at his side, unresponsive to LaCroix' questions.
Loss emptied him of all hope, heart and courage leaving a large wound in
him that filled up with despair and anguish.
A chateau somewhere in the countryside. Someplace private. That
would be where LaCroix took him. Perhaps, Natalie thought, it had been
someplace familiar. But without knowing how, she knew that despite his
luxurious surroundings, Nick had been as much in a cell as she had. No
outside communication. No knowledge of what had happened behind his
departure--only guesses and speculation.
And what kinds of persuasion had Daddy Dearest applied? Human
blood would have been first. She bit her lip at the thought. Nick and
human blood. It would have dehumanized him. Brought him back to a
sharper more painful desire for the blood--for the hunt. It would have
torn him apart, brought down his carefully built desires for humanity
brick by brick. Taking away his hard-won control.
Yet Natalie knew that even in that deep despair, Nick would not
have yielded--not completely--to the beast inside. How much that must
have angered LaCroix. And how far would that make him push? Starvation
and then temptation perhaps. Did he lock him in a cell in his anger and
leave him alone until the blood hunger rose? Did he then send in
someone whose beating heart would have been a siren lure that Nick would
not have been able to resist? She hoped not. Yet she knew it was
probably true.
In the end Nick would probably have hidden somewhere inside
himself. A small light waiting for an opportunity. And acting out
insanity on the outside--probably only partly an act. He would have
waited for a chance. He would have been patient. Nick wouldn't have
just taken the first opening, but rather he would have plotted and
prepared and then at last--sprung his own trap from inside the trap and
vanished into the night. Only when he was away would he have dug deep
and let that small piece of him that was sane back out so that he could
pass for human in the world at large.
No wonder LaCroix was rattled. He might not understand how Nick
could retain that humanity, because he had never understood how hard
Nick had fought to gain that control.
And would that humanity have survived his discovery of Natalie's
fate?
She could only hope so.
A bitter laugh escaped her throat. Somewhere she heard someone
turn over restlessly in response. Before this was over, Natalie
thought, we could all be stark, raving mad.
She didn't think LaCroix was stupid, but even the most intelligent
of men could be blinded by love. And no matter how much she might hate
him, she knew he loved Nick as much as she did. He wanted to help his
son, make him the best he could be. The problem was his perception of
what that 'best' was. He didn't understand the son he had made because
he was blinded by his love, blinded by his perceptions of life and his
experiences as a Roman--and who knew what else.
Just as she was blinded by her love for Nick, Natalie realized for
the first time lying there on her hard cot. She thought he could be
human. But could he? Even if he became mortal, could he be human?
Maybe LaCroix was right. Maybe he couldn't survive mortality long
enough to find out. Too much patterning as a vampire.
Who was the fool then? Was it Natalie, LaCroix, or Nick? Did any
of them have the perspective to sort it out? Nick would be blind to
everything but the need to save her. She had been blind for so long to
everything but the need to give him mortality--humanity, that she had
failed to understand him. LaCroix was blind to everything save the need
to rescue his suicidal son.
They were all so blind. And as a result they were caught in a
vortex of their own making. It just might destroy them all before it
was through. Certainly it would destroy her. She was, after all, a
mere mortal. This was a deadly chess game and she was the pawn.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
She couldn't stop loving Nick.
She couldn't get out of here and disappear where neither of them
could find her.
She could only wait for the next move and see what kind of sticky
situation it would land her in.
Natalie decided she'd better make some kind of contingency plan for
the most obvious scenarios. Anything to help her turn this thing away
from the catastrophic ending it was heading for.
Anything...
She lay there and watched the shadows shift as the night waned into
a pale shadow of day, and made every possible plan she could. Somwhere
in that pale, cold night she finally fell into a troubled sleep.
*"We'll find a way, Natalie. We'll find a way to be together, no
matter what. I love you..."
"If I wanted you dead, this prison would not prevent me from
accomplishing the task..."
What I felt for Scott was nothing compared to the love that
I...feel for you. The point being, I suppose, that I'm not all that
much together when it comes to this love thing, Nick."
"We'll find a way, Natalie..."*
"Lambert! Shake a leg there!" Natalie started groggily at the
clanking on her cell. She had slept through the bell and all the usual
bedlam of morning. It had been a hell of a night. She hoped the day
would be better. Silently she dressed, and rubbing her eyes and
yawning, she got in line for breakfast.
Toast and eggs--over hard. They didn't seem to know how to make
them any other way. She sat down to eat and was only halfway through
her toast when Wilson showed up at her side.
"Lambert. The warden wants to see you now."
Natalie blinked. "What?"
"Now, Lambert. Let's move."
Natalie felt her stomach muscles tighten up. The game was in
motion. Not even twenty-four hours, and somebody had made a move. Who?
LaCroix or Nick? Dammit, she needed to know.
"Lambert."
"Okay," Natalie said irritably and picked up her other piece of
toast. "I'm coming."
The walk to the Warden's office seemed interminable. Out of medium
security into minimum. Out of minimum into the office structure.
Locking door after locking door. She hated every minute of it. She
felt fear slithering down her spine. She wasn't ready for this.
They escorted her into the Warden's waiting room and showed her a
nice straight uncomfortable wooden chair. She sat it in and
contemplated all the ways that the system did its best to intimidate
you. An uncomfortable chair on an ordinary day might have done the
trick, but not today. These people had no idea what they were up
against.
"Okay, Lambert," someone said, "go on in."
Natalie walked in and stood in front of the Warden. He was
examining a piece of paper in his hand with intense scrutiny. She stood
patiently. There were no chairs here. More intimidation, she supposed.
The Warden looked up. "Natalie Lambert?" he inquired.
Natalie nodded mutely.
"It would seem that you may have been falsely imprisoned. New
evidence has come to light indicating that the man you were convicted of
murdering...a Detective Knight, I believe, may still be alive."
Natalie swallowed. LaCroix. It must be LaCroix. Damn, but he
moved fast. Faster than even she would have thought.
"What evidence?" Natalie asked softly.
"A photo arrived at the Toronto Police Commissioner's Office
yesterday. It apparently is very compelling evidence."
Natalie took a breath. "What does that mean?"
"Actually," the Warden said putting the paper down, "I don't know.
I've just been told to inform you that you may be released as early as
tomorrow. This is highly unusual."
Natalie coughed to cover the laughter that tried to bubble out of
her. Unusual. Well, of course. Considering who had probably done it.
"I thought you might like to see the fax," the Warden said, handing
her the paper.
Natalie took it and scanned it hastily. A photo had arrived
anonymously at the Commissioner's Office. The photo appeared to be of
Detective Nick Knight. It was positively dated three weeks ago. So far
they had been able to verify that the photo was genuine and had not been
manipulated since it was a polaroid. It also appeared that Detective
Knight might not have left Toronto under his own volition. It then went
on to ask the Warden to notify Dr. Lambert of the evidence and prepare
her for an immediate release pending final verification.
"I have looked at your conviction records, Dr. Lambert," the Warden
continued. "I see that you pled innocent to all charges. You also
stated for the record that you didn't believe the Detective was dead.
It would seem you may have been right. Did you know more than you were
telling?"
Natalie stared at the Warden. "No. I was going on instinct.
There was a struggle. But if they had killed him, why would they take
the body? My degree is in forensic medicine. I've spent years studying
crime scenes and helping to find the murderers by studying the evidence
left behind in the body. The only time anyone takes a body is when the
body can positively ID the killer, and that is a rare event. Most
crimes are of passion--one way or another--and removing the body and
hiding it so it can never be found requires careful plotting. I just
felt like he had to be alive. Maybe because I loved him..."
Natalie stared at the paper in her hands again. Which one was
behind this? Which one? What should she do?
"Hmm," the Warden said tapping his pencil against the desk.
"Perhaps they weren't as careful as they could have been in trying this
case."
"Perhaps," Natalie murmured. "Thank you."
"Well, we will let you know as soon as this is finalized. You
might want to pack your things. Unusual as it is, you may be out of
here in the next few days."
"Thank you," Natalie said politely and left.
All the way back to the infirmary she frantically ran through her
scenarios, discarding one after another.
Natalie sat and stared at the cultured slide in front of her
without seeing it. She was still in shock from her visit to the Warden.
It was all happening so fast and she felt completely out of control.
She had no idea whether it was Nick or LaCroix pulling the strings and
her gut feeling was she wouldn't until she walked out of prison.
Someone would be waiting for her, of that she was sure. The questions
was, who? And what would she do?
If it was LaCroix, she supposed she could run screaming back into
the prison. That ought to make them think she was completely looney
tunes, but somehow she didn't think it would save her from landing in
LaCroix' clutches. If it was Nick, well, she would be tempted to land a
hard right to his jaw and then throw herself in his arms. She was a
mass of conflicting emotions when it came to Nick Knight.
Suddenly she straightened. If by some chance, no one was there,
then what? Perhaps the best thing would be for her to melt away and
disappear. Leave all the vampires behind and create a new life without
any of them in it. It would certainly be more peaceful, more normal,
and better for her heart. But how could she disappear?
Then she remembered a conversation she had overhead not so long ago
between Megs and the tough as nails Bev "Tuffstuff" Tilvers. Megs, as
Natalie recalled, had told Tuffstuff that she knew someone who knew how
to make people really disappear. New name, all new identity including
all government required Ids no matter the country. Maybe, Natalie
thought, as she chewed on a nail, maybe I can disappear. Get out of the
game. Leave it all behind. She looked up at the clock and saw that it
was almost lunch time. She could talk to Megs then.
Nightime again. Natalie stared at the yellow ceiling. She was
tired beyond belief, but unable to sleep. Her heart was racing and her
empty stomach beat in time to the pulse. A nerve in her foot twitched
in time to the lub-dub of her heart. Natalie closed her eyes and tried
to will it away. Moments later she found them open again, much against
her will, staring at the yellow ceiling.
Megs had been very helpful. "So, you want info, huh?" Megs asked
in her raspy voice. Natalie supposed that at one time it had been a
pleasant voice, but Megs had destroyed it with years of chain smoking.
"Yeah," Natalie said, fighting the urge to cough as Megs exhaled.
"Don't you got eight to ten?" Megs asked interestedly. "Or are you
planning on an unexpected exit? That why you wanna know how to git a
new ID?"
Natalie laughed. "No. No. I'm not planning on escaping. I'm
afraid I'm too dull and boring for that. No. Turns out that new
evidence has come to light and I just might be released because the guy
I was 'supposed' to have murdered may be alive."
"No way," Megs hooted. "You mean you really are innocent? Imagine
that. Everyone always says they're innocent, but no one ever really is.
Least, I didn't think so." Megs stubbed out her cigarette butt and lit
another, then looked at Natalie with her yellowed eyes. "So why you
running? If you're gittin' released, why do you need to hide?"
Natalie looked down at her hands, and her smiled twisted into
bitterness. "If I get out of here, and if I get back to Toronto in one
piece, I want a new life where the man who framed me can't find me and
use me again."
Megs narrowed her eyes and stared at Natalie. "What'ya saying?"
"I'm saying that I was the pawn that forced Nick--the guy I was
supposed to have killed--into disappearing. I just found out that the
pistol put to his head was if he didn't leave, I'd die. Nice, huh? The
point being, that the guy forcing the issue never bluffs. If Nick had
hesitated, I would have been dead two minutes later. And now Nick has
apparently escaped, and I know without any doubt he's going to try and
get me away from all this if he can. I'm caught in the middle--again.
The other guy wants to use me to control Nick. I know because he
dropped by and told me so. So... if Nick gets here first, he'll try to
get me away to safety, but chances are he won't succeed. If the other
guy gets here first, I'll be a captive to force Nick to do what he
wants. So my plan is to get away and disappear down a hole so neither
of them can find me."
Megs puffed thoughtfully. "But you love him, don't you? This Nick
guy, right?"
Natalie met Megs gaze. "Yeah, but it doesn't matter. Loving him
is gonna get me killed. He's got too powerful an enemy."
"Bad deal," Megs said in a deep rasp. "What are the odds?"
"That I'll live for more than a week after I get released?" Natalie
shook her head and laughed bitterly. "About zip. So how about it.
Give me a chance?'
Megs tapped her cigarette and ash drifted gently through the air to
land on the dirty cement floor. She shrugged. "Why not?" She reached
over for a scrap of paper and scribbled on it. "When you get to this
address, tell 'em Megs sent you. The password is 'Tiberius'."
"What?" Natalie asked surprised.
"Tiberius', like as in James Tiberius Kirk. The guy's a Trekker.
What can I say? The world is a strange place, ya know."
"Yeah," Natalie agreed. "It is."
"Hope you make it," Megs said as Natalie got up. "You're a nice
kid. I never did think you belonged here."
Natalie smiled. "I'm not sure anybody should ever end up in a
place like this."
Megs laughed, a deep hoarse sound. "Ain't that the truth. But
that's life, you get handed a bum deal and by the time you claw your way
to the light, it's too late, and they slam the door and throw away the
key. Give 'em hell, kid. Go find that life that the rest of us lost."
Natalie met her eyes and in the silence they understood each other.
Natalie smiled and then left.
Natalie sighed and stared at the ceiling. It hadn't changed.
Still ugly. And she was still without a concrete plan, but at least she
had an address...if she got that far.
If...
The more she thought, the more she planned, the more Natalie knew
that as much as she would like to leave the game, it was too late. She
was indeed a pawn. A willing pawn in Nick's hands. Love was not
something you could toss away or turn on and off easily. If Nick came,
she didn't know if she could tell him goodbye again, she didn't know if
she could walk away, because... Natalie took a deep breathe and closed
her eyes against the tears.
"Better," she whispered in the tiny cell, "better to be miserable
with him, than without..."
Her life before Nick had been lonely and empty. After had been,
too. Despite the extenuating circumstances of LaCroix' diversion. She
and Nick filled up the empty places in each other, healed the hurts, and
made each other whole. And that was why she couldn't walk away.
Even if she was a pawn in the game.
Without choices.
Without options.
For without Nick, she was also without love.
Natalie turned over and buried her face in her lumpy pillow.
Her only choice was Nick. So be it.
But if he was not there, and if she eluded LaCroix, then she would
go to ground and try to find a life without him. But only if he wasn't
there. And she prayed that he would be...
"Megs," Natalie said hesitantly as she put down her breakfast tray
next to Megs, "would you do me a favor?"
Megs looked at her indulgently. "Sure."
Natalie smiled and held out a letter. "Mail this for me. A month
after I'm gone."
Megs brow crinkled. "It'll kind of be old news by then, won't it?"
Natalie shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Will you?"
Megs took it and looked at the address, then her face a question
mark, looked at Natalie. "You sure about this, Lambert?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
"'Kay," Megs said and pocketed the letter. She picked up a roll
and took a bite. "I guess this means you expect to be gone soon, huh?"
Natalie shrugged. "Yes. Soon."
"Lambert," Wilson interrupted. "We have a release order for you.
Let's go pack your bags."
Megs met Natalie's eyes. "That's pretty damn soon."
Natalie nodded, feeling her heart begin to pound. "Kind of early
in the day, in fact," she added casually. The game was on. She got up.
"You take care, Lambert," Megs said. "I expect you to do big
things, now, ya hear?"
Natalie turned and smiled. "I will."
Before she knew it, her one small box was packed and taped, with a
handle attached. She was processed and interviewed. She signed form
after form, and then at last found herself being ushered into a small
room. Her box was handed to her by a guard and a bus schedule shoved
in her hand. She looked at it blankly.
"In case you don't have a ride," the guard said, and disappeared
back through a door.
Natalie stood there in the small empty room. The prison was
obviously, she thought, not big on goodbyes. After a moment she squared
her shoulders and opened the door and stepped out into freedom.
A sidewalk stretched before her, and she walked down into the
parking lot. She stopped and looked around. The bus stop was down to
her left. She made that her first goal. But as she stepped off the
sidewalk, a car slipped silently up and stopped in front of her. The
windows were tinted. Very *darkly* tinted. There was no clue of who
might be inside.
Natalie bit her lip. Time was up. She took a step to move past
the car. It backed up. She stopped. No. There was no getting out of
this.
The back door opened a crack, and after a moment, Natalie took a
deep breath, opened it and got in.
"Natalie," he breathed.
"Nick!" Natalie cried out and threw herself into his arms.
"I'm so sorry," Nick said, pulling her close, covering her cheek
with kisses. "I'm so sorry."
"He knows you're here," Natalie said, peripherally aware that the
car was speeding up. "He knows."
"Shhhh," Nick whispered. "It's okay."
"There's no way to escape him. He came to see me. How can we
possibly get away..."
"Natalie," Nick said, pulling her close and stroking her hair. "He
arranged for your release at 10:00 a.m. I moved it up. We've got an
hour on him."
Natalie stilled and looked up at him, really looked at him for the
first time. His face was gaunt, his eyes tired. "Oh, Nick," she
whispered, "what did he do to you?"
Nick, looking into her eyes, smiled, "Nothing that he hasn't done
before. Nothing that I couldn't overcome. Nothing. But you...that he
should allow you to be tried, to go to prison...it doesn't bear thinking
of. You would have been better to never have met me. I'm so sorry."
"Stop it, Nick," Natalie said. "Stop it. There is nothing you can
say, that I haven't thought of. I have had plenty of time to think it
all through while I was inside. I had time to evaluate that line of
thought, and it's not true. I was lonely and getting lonelier. I was
alone. You were alone. Now we aren't. We are better together.
Remember what you said, Nick? 'We'll find a way..."
Nick stared at her. "No matter what," he said. And then he pulled
her to him and kissed her, bruising her lips with the fierceness of his
need. And Natalie sank into his embrace, her need as intense as his.
There was only touch and feel. It was all that made this moment
real.
"Natalie," Nick said, his lips against her eyelids, "you're
crying."
"For joy...," Natalie whispered. "By the way, I'd like to give you
a good hard right to the jaw. Damn you."
Nick laughed, a rumble deep inside his chest, as if he had
forgotten how, and now, only now, with her at his side could he remember
how to laugh, how to be happy.
"I'll be your punching bag anytime you want, Nat. Anytime."
"Where are we going?" Natalie asked, snuggling against him.
"Airport," Nick said. "Private jet. We'll disappear into
America's Midwest. O'Hare's our starting place. We're going to have to
do a lot of moving, Nat."
"I know," Natalie said. 'I know. And he'll find us eventually."
"He'll find me," Nick said. "He always finds me, sooner or later.
But...he doesn't have to find you. I can arrange for you to have a new
life, Nat. One without a whisper of a vampire in it. One free from all
of this. It would be best."
"I know," Natalie said. "It would be. But it's too late, Nick. It
was too late when you woke up on my table all those years ago. I
thought this all out last night. I know I'm a pawn in the game. An
expendable pawn..."
"No!" Nick said explosively.
"Shh," Natalie said putting her hand over his lips. "I am a pawn.
I have no choice, because you are my choice. For as long as I live.
Whether that is a day, a week, or thirty years. You are my choice."
"Oh, Natalie," Nick said thickly. "I love you, but our chances..."
"I know. The odds are bad. LaCroix and you have been playing this
game for centuries. He mostly wins. But Nick, he had you in checkmate--
and you escaped. You rescued the pawn. He's scrambling right now to
regroup."
"Natalie?" Nick said a little puzzled.
"Chess," Natalie murmured against his lips. She kissed him and
felt his arms tighten around her. Slowly, he kissed her again, savoring
the moment.
Natalie smiled. " I'll take my chances."
Epilogue
"Cap," Milhouse said. "There's a letter for you. It's marked
personal, but it came from the prison."
Stonetree raised his eyebrow and held out a beefy hand. "It's been
a while since somebody threatened me," he said. "Ought to be a nice
diversion."
Milhouse laughed and dropped it into his hand. "You got a great
sense of humor, Cap," he said and moved on.
Stonetree looked at the neat writing and his eyes narrowed.
Quietly he ripped the letter open.
"Dear Joe," it began, "I write this letter knowing full well I will
never see any of my friends and colleagues again. I expect to be
released tomorrow from prison, but I am asking one of the inmates to
wait a month before sending it in order to protect you as well as
myself. I know that my disappearance upon leaving prison will be
remarked on, and in fact, investigated. That cannot be helped. I have
no control over events--I haven't for a long, long time. Yes, I will
walk out of prison and literally vanish. I'm hoping that if I'm lucky,
Nick will be the one meeting me, and that he will get me away to safety.
If I'm not lucky, it will be the man who framed me in the first place.
He's the one that forced Nick out of his life and had me framed to keep
me out of the way for a while. Nice guy, don't you think?
"I have a favor to ask you, Joe. Please have them drop the
investigation. Let it go. I don't want anyone else to lose their life
or career because of this. That is all I ask. I wish I could tell you
what is going on, but I can't. It's just too dangerous, and I will not
risk anyone else in this game. I thought I knew what I was getting into
when I met Nick. He warned me that it was dangerous to get close to
him. And it was. But I trust that he will protect me.
"It was to protect me that he vanished in the first place. The
knife held to his throat that night was my life. So he went to keep me
alive. But he bided his time and found a way out, and tomorrow I'm
hoping he'll find a way out for me--for both of us. If we succeed,
I'll find a way to let you know.
"Pray for us...
Natalie"
Stonetree dropped the letter to his desk, tears in his eyes. "I'll
be praying for you, Natalie," he whispered. "We all will."
End